


Death

by gaialux



Category: South Park
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny McCormick can't stay dead. It doesn't matter in how many way he tries, or the manner in which he attempts it, the outcome is the same. He dies and, by the next morning, he's alive and kicking once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death

**Author's Note:**

> South Park does not belong to me. This piece of fiction was written for entertainment purposes only, no profit is gained.

  
_Because I could not stop for Death,_  
 _He kindly stopped for me._  
 _The Carriage held but just ourselves_  
 _And Immortality_  
\- Emily Dickinson

* * *

When you repeat the same action over and over again you tend to be able to do it methodically, without much conscious thought or reasoning. The same thing apparently goes along with fear. Or, at least I learnt that in a psychology class at some point. Conditioning. You keep facing a fear, and sooner or later the fear will go away.

It doesn't work with death.

I can see myself facing death in the face, and I am terrified. After you die so many times, and in such bizarre ways, you're soon able to notice how it will happen again. If I walk past a house I expect something to fly from the window and crush me, walking near a river means I will drown, and every person I meet has the potential to slaughter me.

I'm afraid all the time.

Knowing that you can't die is fun at first. You try out all this crazy shit to see just how invincible you are. Then the reality of it dawns on you. _You can never die_. No matter what happens in the world. Even if everything in the world ends, even if you are old, even if your friends and family are dead...you will live. Even if everything gets too hard, hurts too much, you will have to live through it.

I have to face all of it.

Then there's the knowledge that, even if you can't die, your health can suffer. I figured that if I could live forever, then how important could it be to stay healthy? As it turns out, it kinda is. I showed early signs of emphysema on my fifteenth birthday. That's what five years of smoking will do to you.

I still can't give it up.

Smoking only does so much. I thought that alcohol might be an interesting flirtation. Cartman snuck us this flask of whiskey or something, and the group of us sat around getting drunk in his basement. My first taste of alcohol was at thirteen. I never really liked it. Sure, it could give me a numb of the senses, but waking up with a hangover was not worth it. I tried the alcohol once more, drank enough to give me a blood alcohol reading of .40, and ended up dying.

Of course I came back.

So I had to keep looking for better ways to fuck myself over. I became the world's biggest masochist. I went after anything that could hurt me. Like I said, I can walk down the street and see what can kill me. I can also see how to make a weapon out of every object. If it will give me a chance to get close to death then I want it. I want to feel it. I want to embrace every part of it.

I want to _be_ pain.

Sometimes I take it too far. I might cut a little too deep, fall a little too hard, or take a little too much. Then I hear sounds from seemingly nowhere, but the voices are easy to match. _"You killed Kenny!"_ That's Kyle. Not sure who he yells it to. _"You bastards!"_ Then Cartman, even though I didn't think he was anywhere near me when I did it. I get to see the mist come over my eyes, a blanket of darkness. Then I remember nothing.

I wake up in bed.

Back at school the next day and no one even notices what happened. I stopped trying to bring it up when I was a kid. One comment and I got nothing in return. Even to this day I dunno why that is. Kyle was the one I asked, and he became real quiet before telling me he didn't know what I was on about. So I came to one of two conclusions: He knows and refuses to talk about it, or he just didn't care. Either way fucking sucks.

Actually, my whole life fucking sucks.


End file.
